


Reckless Youth

by alabaster_wings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gangs, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Southside High School (Riverdale), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabaster_wings/pseuds/alabaster_wings
Summary: In an effort to reintegrate the North and Southsides of Riverdale, the mayor has decided to close down Riverdale High and have all the students attend Southside High. Betty Cooper finds a new mystery, and Jughead Jones finds his worst nightmare.--Or, the slow burn Bughead fic you never knew you needed.





	1. This is How It Starts

**_B._ **

 

Betty Cooper has already been awake for an hour when her alarm goes off at six in the morning. She’s already dressed and ready for school, sitting at her desk and chewing on her lip as she stares at her laptop screen. Between starting at Southside High today and the mounting frustration with the article she’s writing, sleep had eluded her for most of the night. She’d finally given up and gotten ready, planting herself at her desk with a cup of coffee and a blueberry bagel long before the sun was even close to rising.

She turns the alarm off absently, reading and rereading the last paragraph she’d written. Something about it doesn’t sit right, but she can’t quite identify what the problem is. Staring at the screen for another ten minutes or so gets her nowhere, so she finally accepts defeat for the moment and closes her laptop.

Today is her first day at Southside High. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t thrilled at the idea. Her entire life has been spent searching for answers, especially to the questions she shouldn’t be asking. She’s almost always succeeded in obtaining the truth, in finding out what she wants to know. Except when it comes to the Southside of Riverdale. Embroiled in gang violence and drug trafficking, shrouded in conspiracy and secrets, it was the most tantalizing mystery Betty had ever encountered.

And now she was finally being given access. In the past, no matter how hard she’d tried, no matter the bribes or threats she’d attempted, no matter how sneakily she’d tried to ferret out information, the Southside refused to divulge even a wisp of information. She couldn’t even find out who ran the local gang, the Southside Serpents. But all that was going to change, all thanks to Mayor McCoy’s attempt to “reunite the North and Southsides.” Regardless of the fact that Betty has zero faith in that ever actually becoming a reality, she’s excited to have finally been granted access to the one mystery she’s never been able to get close to.

Her phone buzzes across the desk, and she answers the call without looking to see who it is. Only one person would be calling her before daylight, “Hey, V.”

Veronica Lodge is easily her best friend, despite the fact that they’re polar opposites. Veronica is from the Upper East Side, with all the charm and grace that comes along with spending her entire life surrounded by New York’s elite. She wears real pearls unironically and throws extravagantly lavish parties, Gatsby-style. Betty, on the other hand, has spent her entire life in boring old Riverdale. She usually spends most of her time brooding over whatever literary piece is currently vexing her, sipping red wine in the late hours of the night when she knows her father won’t catch her. Veronica is dramatic and outspoken, Betty is fairly mercurial and content to stay in the background. But, despite the fact that on paper they shouldn’t work, there’s an unbreakable bond between the two of them.

“B! I absolutely cannot do this,” Veronica intones dramatically, not at all kidding. She continues, “I was awake half the night, sick with worry. I cannot and will not do this.” 

Betty rolls her eyes, collecting her things into her backpack as she says, “You’re being quite the cliche this morning, Ronnie. What happened to all that excitement about meeting dangerous bad boys? You seemed pretty excited about it yesterday.” 

“I never said any such thing,” she says seriously, sounding absolutely scandalized. “Betty, someone was _stabbed_ last week! Right in the middle of the cafeteria! What if someone stabs _me_?” Veronica’s voice raises an octave, her panic growing by the second.

“Who would want to stab you?” Betty inquires, fighting the urge to laugh. She knows that Veronica’s fear is genuine, but she stands firm in her belief that it’s entirely misguided. Despite all the dangerous goings-on that happen on the Southside, no one gets into trouble without actively trying to find it. 

“Anyone! Everyone! I don’t know!” The rising hysteria in her voice is punctured by small little gasps. Veronica is working herself into a panic over going to Southside High, the least dangerous place on the Southside, “There are gang members there! What if we don’t have any classes together and I have to go through this all alone? What if I get _jumped_?”

“Take a deep breath, V. We already got our schedules; you _know_ we have almost every class together. And what you don’t have with me, you have with Archie.” Betty has talked her down from many similar episodes over the past few weeks, and she keeps her voice slow and gentle as she continues, “No one is going to mess with you though, I promise. I’ll kick all kinds of ass if anyone tries.”

For the first time this morning, Veronica begins to sound relatively reasonable again, “Do you swear?”

Betty sighs in relief, “Yes, Veronica, I swear.”

“Great! I’ll be there in ten!” And she hangs up with a flourish, leaving Betty shaking her head in amusement at the dial tone. Veronica loved her theatrics, there was no doubt about that.

Which reminds Betty of the other drama queen in her life, Cheryl Blossom, who happens to live in the bedroom across from her. At one point in the not so distant past, the two of them were bitter enemies, but a lot of things have changed in the last year. Cheryl’s brother, Jason, had died, leaving his twin sister spiraling and their parents on a warpath like no one had ever seen. Cheryl had been even more nasty than before, taking all her pent up emotion out on Betty until one day when she just...broke. All her secrets, all the torment she had suffered at the hands of her own mother, just came pouring out. And Betty, ever the good Samaritan, vowed to do everything she could. All it took was several days of pleading with her father, Hal, and Cheryl was moving in with them. 

It had been somewhat difficult to adjust to such close proximity, and it had taken a few months for Cheryl to get used to the idea of having a friend that she didn’t have to watch her back around, but they had finally found a harmonious way of living together without wanting to tear each other’s eyes out. In fact, Betty feels pretty confident of the fact that they could possibly be considered friends now, not that Cheryl would ever admit as much.

Knocking on Cheryl’s door, Betty pushes it open, “Cher? Veronica is on her way…” She trails off when she sees what Cheryl is wearing. She’s in a black velvet dress that sweeps to the floor, a black lace veil pinned in her bright red hair and stopping just below her eyes. She’s at her vanity, applying ruby red lipstick to her lips. 

She grins saccharinely at Betty in the mirror, turning to face her and giving a little twirl, “Well, what do you think?”

Despite the fact that she looks positively stunning as always, Betty only rolls her eyes, “You’re just as bad as Veronica. You look like you’re dressed for your own funeral.”

“Betty dearest, someone was _stabbed_ at that wretched school only just last week. There is a very real chance that I could _die_ ,” she purses her lips in the mirror, making sure her lipstick is applied perfectly. Cheryl, unlike Veronica, is not actually afraid of going to the Southside. By the slightly wicked glint in her eyes, Betty knows that she’s positively thrilled at the idea of a whole new population of students to make bow at her feet.

“Yeah, I’d love to see someone try to come after you,” Betty replies, a knowing smile on her face. Cheryl may be all perfect lines and sharp angles, but she’s definitely got the bite to back up her bark. She and Betty have been taking kickboxing classes together for almost a year now, and they’ve both had more than a few opportunities to put their new skills to use.

Betty’s phone vibrates in her back pocket just as Cheryl’s lets out a smooching sound, and they both know without looking that Veronica has alerted them to her arrival. They head down the stairs together, knowing that a united front against Alice Cooper is the only way to get out of the house in a timely fashion.

Surprisingly enough, though, she’s nowhere to be found. Hal is sitting at the kitchen table, reading _The Riverdale Register_ while he sips at a cup of coffee. He barely looks up from the paper as he says, “Have a good day, girls.”

“Where’s mom?” Betty asks, only to be elbowed in the ribs by Cheryl. Alice has spearheaded many attempts to get Mayor McCoy to change her mind about having all Riverdale High students transferred to the Southside, all to no avail. No matter how many scathing articles she wrote in _The Register_ , she was unable to keep her youngest daughter out of “that wretched building full of miscreants and thugs.”

Hal clears his throat uncomfortably, meeting her eyes for a fraction of a second before returning them to the paper, “She decided to get to the office early. Lots to work on this morning.”

Betty opens her mouth to inquire further, but Cheryl cuts her off and pinches her side, “Well, have a lovely day, Mister Cooper. We best be going. Veronica is waiting for us.” Her words are pointed at Betty more than at Hal, but he hardly seems to notice.

He waves them out the door, much more focused on reading the words that his wife has written than on them.

“I can’t believe your dad reads his own newspaper. What’s the point? He wrote it all,” Cheryl snips, rolling her eyes as they head out the front door. Betty knows exactly why her father reads the paper every day; two years ago, Alice snuck in a last minute article about the gruesome death of Jason Blossom, printing private details of the autopsy report and effectively sensationalizing one of the biggest tragedies Riverdale has ever seen. The fight between her and Hal had nearly ended in divorce, and had definitely obliterated all trust he had for her.

Not that Betty particularly wanted to share this with Cheryl. Not only did she get this painfully sad look in her eyes anytime her brother came up, but Betty has learned over the years that some of the secrets she uncovers are best kept to herself.

A sleek black town car is waiting outside the house, Smithers standing astutely next to the backseat door, waiting for them. He tips his hat to them as he opens the door, “Good morning, Miss Cooper, Miss Blossom.”

They both greet him warmly as they slide into the backseat, settling across from Veronica in the roomy space. She has fancy coffee waiting for both of them, Cheryl’s strong and barely sweet, Betty’s topped with whipped cream and caramel, just the way they like. “Good morning, ladies,” she chirps, clearly still nervous but trying hard not to be.

Betty takes her coffee gratefully, sticking her finger in the top to get a scoop of whipped cream before taking a sip. She frowns at Veronica, unable to help herself as she says, “Uh, V, I appreciate the ride and all, but isn’t the limo a little...ostentatious?”

Veronica’s smile stays firmly in place, “It’s hardly a limo, B. It only seats six.”

Cheryl hums her agreement as she sips at her coffee, clearly unconcerned that they’re well on their way into the belly of the beast, as it were. 

It’s just then that Betty realizes that Veronica is also dressed as if she’s attending a funeral; she’s wearing a black sweater dress with a lace collar and black Mary Jane heels, a small black bow pinning her bangs back from her face. She opens her mouth to comment, but is interrupted by the door opening and Archie Andrews sliding in next to Veronica. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek, turning to smile at Betty in greeting, “Morning.” 

Veronica passes him a cup of hot chocolate, relaxing against his side, “Good morning, Archekins. Don’t you look dashing this morning.”  He isn’t dressed out of the ordinary; jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, his Riverdale High letterman jacket worn proudly. It’s a clear move of rebellion, even ever amicable Archie protesting the school transfer in his own way.

Betty suddenly feels out of place, dressed so normally in a black Henley and her favorite dark red jeans. Even her Vans hightops seem bland compared to Veronica and Cheryl’s dramatic choices. She’s never voiced it, but Betty has always felt like the odd one out. She isn’t as beautiful or as outgoing or as sure of herself as her two closest friends, and she’s often wondered what they saw in her that she couldn’t see in herself. She felt just as plain as all the girls Cheryl snd Veronica were so far above, and she certainly doesn’t feel like she deserves to ride to school in a limo with the two queens of Riverdale.

Archie leans over and whispers something in Veronica’s ear, making her giggle and whisper back. With a sound of mild disgust at the sight, Cheryl pulls out her phone and effectively removes herself from any further conversation.

After a moment’s hesitation, Betty pulls out her laptop. She minimizes the article on Mayor McCoy’s reintegration campaign she’s been frustrated with and opens up a fresh document. _Southside High: Uncovered_ , she types, unable to help the smile that pulls at her lips. She has nothing else to add to the page as of yet, but that’s less than an hour away from changing. She’s waited for this day for so long, and now it’s finally here.

 

\--

 

Betty isn’t disappointed, she _isn’t_.

She isn’t disappointed by the achingly slow moving line of students waiting to get in the front door, or by the metal detector she has to walk through. She isn’t disappointed at the greedy way the security guard looks her over as he waves the wand up and down her body, or by the sneers she receives from Southside students as she struggles to navigate her way to her new locker.

Veronica and Archie come with her, neither particularly interested in venturing off on their own just yet. Cheryl, however, disappears as soon as they’re clear of the creepy security guard, loving the fact that almost all eyes are on her, “Later, bitches.”

Betty finds her locker soon enough, firmly _not_ disappointed at the graffiti covering its surface. She checks her schedule for the combination, frowning when it doesn’t work. She tries it again, frustration starting to seep in as the locker remains adamantly locked. Archie leans over, ever the knight in shining armor, “Here, let me try.”

Betty steps away to let him take a crack at it, turning her gaze to the other students in the hall. She notices a girl with bubblegum pink hair staring at her from across the way. The girl is speaking in low tones to a ridiculously tall boy with jet black hair and a square jaw. They’re both wearing leather jackets, and even though she can’t see the back of them, Betty knows they’re adorned with a snake in the shape of an _S_. The dwindling hope in her chest reignites in an instant, uncooperative locker forgotten, “I’ll be right back.”

Veronica grabs her arm before she can even take a step, her eyes on the gang members Betty was trying to approach. They’re still staring at her, not the least bit embarrassed at having been caught in the act. “Betty, those are _Serpents_ . Are you _trying_ to die already?”

“They’re staring at me. I want to know why,” Betty replies, her curiosity piqued. One of the reasons that she’s such a good journalist is that she _has_ to know every detail about everything, no matter what kind of trouble it leads her into. The only problem, though, is that when she _doesn’t_ get answers it drives her insane.

In Betty Cooper’s case, ignorance is never bliss.

“Probably because they’re thinking about how to rob and murder you,” Veronica hisses, her grip on Betty’s arm tightening. She turns to Archie, who has also failed at getting Betty’s locker open, “Archie, _do_ something before Betty gets murdered by gang members in the first ten minutes of being in this wretched place.”

Archie frowns down at Betty, his best friend since they were four years old. He’s seen firsthand just how much trouble she could get herself into when she got caught up in a mystery, and he knows that the Southside is much more dangerous than anything else she’s ever gotten herself into. “Betty, Veronica may be exaggerating a little--” Veronica huffs, clearly offended. Archie forges on, “--but she has a point. The Serpents are dangerous. Promise you’ll stay out of all that. I doubt they want to murder you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get hurt.”

With the full weight of her two best friends staring at her, Betty folds. She lets her shoulders sag in defeat as she sighs, “Alright, fine. No Serpents. For now, at least.”

Veronica opens her mouth to argue, but the bell ringing cuts her off. She wraps her arm around Betty’s, the three of them falling into step as they make their way to their first class. “Betty Cooper, you are going to give me wrinkles,” she says, but the affection is clear in her voice. She’s still nervous, eyes darting around at anyone who gets too close or looks slightly suspicious, but with Archie and Betty on either side of her, she’s slowly starting to relax.

Betty grins as she slides into a desk close to the front, making a mental note of the fact that the pink haired girl and the dark haired boy are also in this class. They’re sitting in the back of the room with a few other kids also wearing leather jackets. The girl is on her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. 

Feeling her friends’ eyes on her, Betty forces herself to turn away and pull out her books. She smiles when Kevin Keller appears, relief clear on his face at the sight of them, “Oh thank god.” He slides into the desk behind Betty, leaning forward to whisper, “Betty, why are two gang members staring at you?”

Her eyes slide over to Archie and Veronica, but they’re back to whispering and giggling at each other, so she turns to Kevin and says, “I don’t know. Yet.” 

He gives her a warning look not unlike the one Veronica gave her only minutes before, “Be careful, Betty. Those guys are dangerous.”

She turns back around in her seat when the teacher arrives. He’s a tired looking, middle aged man with drooping shoulders and a receding hairline. His attempt to call the class to order is feeble at best, and he gives up before the rowdy group in the back has even taken notice of his arrival. He turns slightly relieved eyes to Betty and her friends when he sees that he has the attention of at least a few students.

Betty allows herself to focus on the lecture about the Romantic Period of literature, forgetting about Serpents and staring gang members for a while. She takes detailed notes, determined to quell the disappointment that continues to bloom in her chest. Southside High may be turning out to be a lot less interesting than she had hoped. The only thing that has seemed even remotely promising is the one thing she’s already promised her friends she’ll stay away from.

When Veronica gives her a slight smile as their eyes meet, Betty tells herself that she has to keep her word. For as long as she can, at least.

 

\--

 

After English, Veronica and Archie head in the opposite direction as Betty makes her way back to her locker. She gets lost on the way, making a wrong turn somewhere, so by the time she makes it back to the right place, the hallway is nearly overflowing with students. She is determined to get the damn thing to open.

Double checking that she’s got the combination right, even though she _knows_ it’s supposed to be 8-4-6, she takes a deep breath and spins the dial. Nothing happens. She tries again, spinning it the opposite way. Muttering under her breath in frustration, she tucks her hair behind her ear and chews on her lip. There’s got to be something she’s missing. Maybe they gave her the wrong combination.

Accepting defeat for the moment, she makes a mental note to check in the office after class, when she sees someone heading toward her out of the corner of her eye. She turns, just in time to be crowded up against her locker by a dark haired guy wearing a Serpent jacket. His eyes are crystal blue and sparkling with an odd mixture of hostility and amusement. He smirks down at her when she inhales sharply, reaching past her shoulder and deftly spinning the lock on her locker. It pops open, a small shower of rust falling from the squeaky hinges.

Betty opens her mouth to thank him, but he’s already disappearing down the hall.

 

 

 

 

**_J._ **

  


Jughead Jones wakes up to his phone vibrating under his cheek. He rolls over with a groan, desperate to sleep this day away. Even only halfway conscious, he’s painfully aware of what day it is; it’s the day Northsiders come to Southside High.

More accurately, it’s the day _she_ comes to Southside High.

As several more texts come through, he resigns himself to consciousness and picks up the offending device. There are more messages than he expected, and he scrolls through them with an increasing sense of dread:

 

_Toni:_ **_[7:42 a.m.]_ ** _ur late asshole_

_Toni:_ **_[7:47 a.m.]_ ** _omg ur ditching without me_

_Toni:_ **_[7:47 a.m.]_ ** _dick_

_Sweet Pea:_ **_[7:54 a.m.]_ ** _ya gurl is lookin fiiiiine today_

_Sweet Pea:_ **_[8:19 a.m.]_ ** _ur such a pussy_

_Sweet Pea:_ **_[8:20 a.m.]_ ** _stop hidin and get ur ass over here_

He stops reading at this point, knowing that Sweet Pea’s insults only escalate with each passing text. Jughead’s desire to avoid school has only grown, but he has to make an appearance, if only to appease the ever-watching members of the Serpents. He’s supposed to take over things soon, what with his father, FP, going completely off the rails, but just because he’s been grandfathered in doesn’t mean that all the Serpents agree.

In fact, despite being dubbed the Serpent Prince, he’s faced with an overwhelming large number of people that would love the chance to take him out and rule the Serpents for themselves.

So he forces himself out of bed, dressing quickly in dark jeans and a thermal shirt. He pulls on his leather jacket and laces up his combat boots, pulling a dark beanie low over his ears in lieu of actually doing something with his out of control hair. He makes a beeline for the kitchen once he’s dressed, digging out a package of Poptarts and pouring himself a generous cup of coffee. It scalds his tongue as he takes large gulps, but he doesn’t have time to wait for it to cool, so he ignores the pain and continues on.

FP is passed out on the couch, a mostly empty bottle of whiskey still sitting on the coffee table. He stirs only slightly when Jughead passes him, mumbling his ex-wife’s name in his sleep. Jughead only rolls his eyes, slamming the trailer door shut behind him with a little more force than is strictly necessary. 

He sits down on the steps and pulls out a cigarette, unwrapping the Poptarts. Despite the fact that he really needs to get a move on, he can’t make himself rush anymore. The absolute last thing he wants to do is see _her_.

It’s like some sick joke that Mayor McCoy’s playing on him, forcing the Riverdale High students to attend Southside High. Personally, he thinks the entire amnesty plan is total horseshit. There’s been bad blood between the two sides of Riverdale from the start, and one overly ambitious mayor certainly isn’t going to change that. He was surprised that Alice Cooper had failed so spectacularly at overturning the plans for the school change, seeing as there were very few times that she was unable to get her way. Jughead had tried to get the Serpents to back her on her fight against Mayor McCoy, but once a traitor always a traitor, and the Serpents would rather have Northsider children in their school than align themselves with Alice Cooper.

So here he is, about to head directly into the fiery pits of hell.

With a long suffering sigh, he forces himself to his feet, stubbing out the cigarette butt as he climbs onto his motorcycle. The wind is sharp and cold as it whips against his face, stinging at his cheeks. It helps to wake him up and settle him down, if only briefly. It hardly takes fifteen minutes before he’s pulling into the school parking lot.

Allowing himself one more cigarette before he’s confined in that building for the better part of the day, he leans against his bike and lets his mind go blank. He refuses to even think her name, knowing it will just grate on his already raw nerves. Southside is a big school, he tells himself, and now with double the students. He can make it through a day without seeing her. At least, that’s what he spends the walk up the front steps convincing himself.

The bell rings just as he enters the building, the halls flooding with students like ants pouring out of an anthill. He does his best to not look at any of them, not wanting to increase his chances of seeing _her_.

Toni Topaz is waiting at his locker when he arrives, her pink curls bouncing as she taps her foot impatiently. She looks close to exploding when he gets within earshot, and she grabs the front of his jacket rather forcefully, “Where the hell have you been, Jones?”

“Asleep,” he stares pointedly down at her hand until she removes it. Jughead straightens his jacket and turns to his locker, entirely uninterested in having this conversation with her. He can already tell by the look on her face that it has everything to do with exactly what he’s trying to avoid.

Toni ignores his tone and forges on, “You’ll never guess wh--”

“Jones! Topaz!” Sweet Pea appears, slinging an arm around Toni and ruffling her hair. He holds her against his side against her will as she struggles to get away, grinning a toothy grin at Jughead, “Guess you decided to show up after all.”

“Get off me, you _oaf_ ,” Toni snaps, trying and failing to push him away. The two of them fight like siblings, always trying to piss the other off. She manages to slam her elbow into his ribs, causing him to release his hold just a little.

Sweet Pea frowns down at her, “Ouch, you wound me.” His grin returns as he tightens his hold on her though, “Have you told him yet?”

Toni huffs, elbowing him in the side again, effectively escaping, “I was _trying_ , but you interrupted me, you ass.”

Jughead sighs, rubbing at the headache forming behind his eyes. He knows he can’t avoid it, so he asks the question he doesn’t want to, “Tell me what?” He turns away from his locker to look at the two of them, still shoving each other like they’re back in middle school. Toni opens her mouth to answer, but Jughead is no longer listening. On the other side of the hallway, struggling to open her locker, is Jughead’s worst nightmare.

She’s wearing a pair of ridiculously tight jeans the color of red wine and a black Henley sweater. Her blonde hair cascades nearly halfway down her back, somehow managing to shine even under the shitty fluorescent lights. She tucks her hair behind her ear in frustration as she tries the lock again, revealing a row of piercings. 

Toni’s words die on her lips as she turns to see what he’s looking at. “Well, so much for warning you.”

But Jughead isn’t listening. He’s walking in her direction before he’s even made the decision to do so. She turns at his approach, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip caught between her teeth in irritation. He doesn’t say a word as he crowds into her personal space, watching her green eyes widen. He smirks, just a little, down at her as he reaches just past her shoulder and spins the lock on her locker. It pops open, creaking on its hinges.

Before she can even react, Jughead has turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, heart hammering against his ribs. He wants to smoke, wants to get back on his bike and ride until he’s so far away he can forget that she smelled like honey and sage. But he knows that he won’t--or can’t, really. 

Everyone’s addicted to something, and for as long as he can remember, he’s been addicted to _her_.

 

\--

 

Jughead spends the rest of the day holed up in _The Red and Black_ office, throwing himself into working on the paper. It’s easier than spending the entire day on edge, both dreading looking over his shoulder and unable to help his eyes from seeking her out.

He forces himself to stay focused on the article he’s writing about the first day of the high school merger, keeping his mind carefully devoid of green eyes and blonde hair. He even skips lunch, a feat practically unheard of when it comes to him. 

Just as he’s beginning to contemplate braving the cafeteria, Toni appears in the doorway, holding a tray of food and pursing her lips, “I think you’re being incredibly melodramatic.”

“I don’t remember asking your opinion,” Jughead snaps, making a grab for the food. 

Toni pulls it out of reach, eyebrows raised, “No way, Jones. You want the food, you tell me what’s up with hipster Barbie.”

He prickles instantly, “Okay, fine, maybe you’re kind of right. A little. About me being dramatic. It’s nothing, she’s no one.” She doesn’t budge, and he knows this is a losing battle. His rumbling stomach makes him give in a lot sooner than normal, “Alright, alright. You win, I’ll spill.” 

Grinning at her victory, Toni hands over the tray of food and settles herself cross legged on top of one of the desks, elbows on her knees, “Okay, let’s hear it.”

Jughead stares at her for a long moment, his jaw working as he contemplates what to say. He takes a breath, “Okay, so you know how I worked at the library last summer?” She nods, so he continues, “Right, well, B--she would come in every Saturday and we would...hang out. I thought it was more than just a summer fling. It wasn't.” He can’t even make himself say her name, and even though he’s lying, he feels his cheeks redden at his own words. As if this day weren’t already difficult enough, now he’s thinking about Betty Cooper in the stacks of the library, pinned between him and a shelf of dusty books, wondering if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

Toni snorts, believing the lie, “Seriously, dude? You fucked around with a Northside girl and got your wittle heart broken? Melodramatic is exactly what you are.”

“Fuck you,” Jughead retorts, angry that she’s here, having this conversation with him. It’s none of her business why he’s so hung up on the Northside girl, _not_ that he’s hung up on her. He doesn’t care, not even a little.

He _doesn’t._ Only, well…

“That was pretty lame, Jones, not gonna lie. I expected something juicer.” Toni hops down from the desk, raising her eyebrows as she asks, “Was it good though? Tappin’ that rich girl pussy?” Jughead only glares at her, jaw tight. She shrugs after a second, walking backwards toward the doorway, “Okay, fine. Keep your dirty little secrets. I was just curious.” And then, blissfully, she turns and heads out the door.

He sighs in relief, rubbing a hand across his face as he takes deep breaths, trying to clear his mind all over again. He spends a long time staring blankly at his computer screen, eating but not tasting the sandwich Toni had brought him. He’s just starting to pay attention to the article again when there’s a timid knock on the already open door.

Jughead looks up to see her standing there, as if she’s materialized right out of his head, a nervous tilt to her lips as she tries to smile, “Um...hi. I’m looking for the editor of _The Black and Red_?”

_This cannot be happening_ , Jughead thinks to himself, wondering how in the hell this day could possibly be so cursed. He hates how cute she looks, just standing there in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater as she waits for a reply. He hates himself more for noticing. “Well, you’ve found him,” he keeps his voice cold, hoping with every fiber of his being that she’s not here for what he thinks.

“Oh. Well, great,” her smile grows and Jughead’s heart stops, “my name is Betty Cooper and I was wondering if you needed any journalists? I’ve got plenty of--”

“Not interested,” Jughead says immediately, forcing himself to hold eye contact.

She visibly wilts at his tone, but tries to say, “But I--”

“Not. Fucking. Interested.” He says it slowly, like she’s stupid. He leans forward in his chair, glaring at her with a single eyebrow arched. He absolutely _cannot_ handle her in this room, in his space. He needs to get her the fuck out of here before he does something that gets them both into trouble. Serpents are everywhere, always watching, always looking for any weakness he might have.

Betty flinches back a step, hands balling into tight little fists. She looks livid, but there are tears clearly shining in her eyes, and Jughead feels like the biggest dick on the planet. He forces himself to stare her down though, until she turns in defeat and disappears from view.

Jughead sits back in his chair, wanting to scream or hit something, anything to forget the look on her face as she left. He forcibly returns to working on his article, pointedly _not_ thinking about honey and sage. He pours all his frustration into the article, being scathingly harsh in his commentary on why Northsiders should stay on their side of town.

He’s nearly done with the article when a voice comes over the intercom system, “Jughead Jones to the principal’s office.”

 

\--

 

The school secretary, Miss Lombardo, gives him a stern look when he enters the office, “What have you gotten into now, Jughead Jones?”

He shrugs, just as curious as she is, “I haven’t done anything, I swear.”

She looks unconvinced, pursing her lips as she says, “Mhm, I’ve heard that before, Mister Jones. Go on in, he’s waiting for you.”

Jughead enters the principal’s office warily, half expecting to see Serpents waiting to have a private chat with him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Instead, though, it’s just the principal sitting at his desk, rubbing at his temples. He gestures to a chair in front of his desk, “Please have a seat, Mister Jones.”

So Jughead slouches into a chair, eyebrows raised expectantly. He’s got a reputation to uphold of being detached and aloof, especially since he knows exactly who Principal Smith spends his free time with. It’s funny how there are snakes everywhere.

“Right, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Mayor McCoy is breathing down my neck to make this merger successful. ‘Full integration,’ she keeps telling me. Which means,” he looks down his glasses at Jughead, looking more than a little uncomfortable as he says, “you have to let Northsiders join _The Red and Black_.” Jughead, instantly furious, opens his mouth to argue, but Principal Smith continues, “I’m not saying you have to let all of them in. You have journalistic integrity or whatever you call it, I know. But if they’re good, and willing, you can’t refuse them. For my sake, but also for your own.” The insinuation is clear; while Principal Smith may have named Mayor McCoy as the one behind this, it’s clear that the order for a smooth transition has come from the opposite side of town.

Principal Smith returns his attention to the paperwork on his desk, a clear dismissal. Jughead takes his leave, frustrated that she’d ratted him out for denying her, but more frustrated that the Serpents--his _father_ , more specifically--have a plan involving the Northsiders that he knows nothing about.

Despite the fact that there’s still another few hours left of school, Jughead makes his way to the parking lot. As soon as he’s outside, he lights up a cigarette, grateful for the nicotine coursing through his bloodstream. He straddles his bike, not bothering with a helmet.

He rides to the Whyte Wyrm, green eyes dancing in his head the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheers xx


	2. Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self harm warning in this chapter  
> it's Betty's palm thing, also featuring some minor alcohol abuse

**_B._ **

  
  
  


By the time lunch hour rolls around, Betty is ready to admit defeat. 

She finds her friends at a table in the corner, having to swerve around a couple of boys wrestling with each other as she makes her way to them. She drops her bag at her feet and sits down with a sigh, unable to keep the frown off her face.

Veronica notices instantly, looking up from where she’s feeding Archie fries, “Why so glum, B?”

Betty tries to force a smile, but her face doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, “Nothing, this school just isn’t nearly as interesting as I’d hoped.” What she wants to say is that she’s immensely regretting her promise to stay away from the Serpents. It’s only her first day and she’s already painfully aware that nothing even remotely interesting ever happens here that  _ doesn’t _ involve the gang. She’s seen multiple leather-jacket clad students disappearing down hallways and whispering together in corners, but she could hardly break her promise within hours of making it. The only thing she values more than information is honesty, and Betty Cooper is nothing without her integrity.

Kevin pats her shoulder consolingly, “That’s probably for the best, Betty. Better a boring day than one fraught with danger and mystery.” She disagrees wholeheartedly with that statement, but she’s too bummed out to voice it. She just shrugs, picking idly at her food, no desire to eat when her list of questions as grown without a single one being answered.

Archie leans forward on the table, wanting to take that sad look off her face, “What about the school paper? There may not be any secrets lurking in Southside High, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still do what you love.”

It does the trick, and a smile slowly splits Betty’s face as she realizes he’s right. She collects her things and gets to her feet, her shoulders set and the spring back in her step, “You’re a genius, Arch. I’ll see you guys later.” The wrestling boys have escalated into full on brawling, a ring of other students surrounding them. It takes Betty a little bit longer to navigate through the throng, and she notices one of the boys punch the other square in the mouth, drawing blood. Only one of them is wearing a Serpent jacket, and he appears to be beating the other boy to a near pulp.

Betty is tempted to stay and try to find out what exactly is going on and why no one is breaking it up, but the ring of Serpents watching the fight in mild amusement keep her at bay. She can’t help filing it away mentally, though, knowing that just because she can’t pursue it now doesn’t mean it won’t come in handy later. She heads to the front office, eager for an opportunity to have some sense of normalcy back.  _ The Blue and Gold _ , Riverdale High’s school newspaper, had been her baby, and even though she would continue writing with or without the paper, it’s definitely something that she misses. And it gives her a chance to complete her first day at Southside without it being an entire failure.

The school secretary, Miss Lombardo according to her nameplate, is a tiny wisp of a woman with light orange hair piled ridiculously high on top of her head. She’s clicking away at her computer when Betty enters the office, hardly even looking up as she says, “How may I help you?”

Her optimism restored, Betty smiles at her and says, “Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me where the school paper office is?” She snaps her fingers together, remembering her locker and the strangely intense interaction with the Serpent boy, “Oh, and I’m having trouble getting my locker to open. I think I might have the wrong combination.”

“ _ The Black and Red _ is run out of room 604. Go down the hall, take a left, and keep going until you get to the library. It’ll be just past the water fountains, you can’t miss it.” She types away at her computer for another minute before she turns her eyes back to Betty, “What’s your locker number?” Betty relays the number, committing the directions to memory. She frowns as the secretary says, “The code we’ve got on file is 8-4-6.”

Resigning herself to worrying about it later, Betty forces herself to smile again and says, “Okay, thank you so much. Have a great day.” She turns and exits the office, taking a left down the hall as instructed. She nearly barrels into the pink haired Serpent girl as she turns a corner, stumbling half a step back in surprise.

The pink haired girl only grins sharply at her, all teeth, “Watch where you’re going, there, hipster Barbie.” And then she slips down the hall, vanishing as quickly as she appeared. Betty wonders briefly if there are secret passages hidden around the school, and then promptly rolls her eyes at herself. This is Southside High,  _ not _ Hogwarts.

She runs into Cheryl for the first time since this morning at the library doors. The redhead’s eyes are alight with mischief, her face flushed, “Hello, Betty.”

Betty looks at Cheryl, then over her shoulder where the pink haired Serpent girl disappeared. Her eyebrows raise at the look on Cheryl’s face, “Oh my god, you were totally making out with a Serpent.” She has a moment of sudden and fierce jealousy that no one’s making Cheryl swear any oaths to stay away from the Serpents before snapping out of it. She knows that Cheryl’s interests in Serpents are likely to get her in an entirely different kind of trouble.

Cheryl flips her hair off her shoulder, feigning innocence as she backs away, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Betty Cooper.” She watches the redhead traipse down the hall for a moment, shaking her head fondly, before turning back in search of room 604.

“Just past the water fountains,” she mumbles to herself, seeing that the door is already open. She stops before she gets to the doorway, taking a deep breath. She’s oddly nervous, as if she hasn’t been writing articles since she was seven years old. When she gets to the doorway, her stomach bottoms out; the guy from this morning, the one who opened her locker, is sitting at a desk, typing away rapidly at one of the computers. He doesn’t notice her, and she has a moment to look at him. His hair is dark, curling at the nape of his neck and sticking out wildly from under the dark beanie he’s wearing. He’s kind of gorgeous, with sharp cheekbones and a perfect mouth.

Shaking herself out of it, Betty knocks timidly on the open door before she can talk herself out of it. When his eyes swing up to meet hers, a nervous flutter courses through her stomach, and she tries to smile as she says, “Um...hi. I’m looking for the editor of  _ The Black and Red _ ?”

He stares at her for a beat too long, making her fidget. Finally he says, “Well, you’ve found him.

“Oh. Well, great,” Betty smiles fully, trying her best to ignore his tone of voice, and forges on, “my name is Betty Cooper and I was wondering if you needed any journalists? I’ve got plenty--”

“Not interested,” he cuts her off, eyes blazing.

_ This cannot be happening, _ Betty thinks, a sick feeling replacing the nervousness in this pit of her stomach. She  _ needs _ this, needs something to go right today, so she tries again, “But I--”

He leans forward in his chair, eyes going straight through her as he speaks very slowly, like she’s too stupid to understand if he talks any faster, “Not. Fucking. Interested.”

Betty can’t move. She feels tears sting at her eyes and she balls her hands into fists, nails biting deeply into her flesh. She wants to scream at him, or throw something, but she can’t move. He’s staring at her like he hates her, like she’s something disgusting that he’s just stepped in. It makes her feel like she’s going to throw up, so she digs her nails in deeper. 

As she feels the skin of her palms break, she turns away in defeat. She doesn’t even notice the dark haired Serpent boy lurking in the shadows.

 

\--

 

Betty is sullen and quiet for the rest of the day, feeling utterly defeated. She doesn’t even bother going back to her locker, unable to handle any more disappointment today. After her humiliating interaction with the beautiful, awful newspaper editor, she had spent the better part of the next class period in the girls’ bathroom, washing the blood off her hands.

Now she’s waiting inside the town car for her friends, her sleeves pulled down carefully over her palms. The last thing she needs is for one of them to see and ask her what’s wrong. She doesn’t want to think about the stupid school paper, or the stupid boy who runs it, or about anything at all. 

But, of course, as soon as Veronica and Archie slide into the car, Veronica says, “Hey there, newest journalist of  _ The Black and Red _ . Did you get your first assignment yet?”

Betty visibly wilts, unable to look at either of them as she mumbles, “I, um...they didn’t want me.” He _ didn’t want me _ , she thinks to herself, the way he looked at her etched into her brain. She didn’t even know his name, but his vicious rejection felt incredibly personal. She’s been trying to convince herself that maybe he just hates all Northsiders or that maybe he’s just an asshole to everyone, but she can’t shake the way he had  _ looked _ at her.

Veronica is at her side instantly, angry in a way Betty is too defeated to be, “ _ What? _ Betty, that’s crazy. Do those bastards even know who you are?” Betty doesn’t say anything, just leans against her friend’s shoulder, so Veronica continues, “Well, screw them. We can start our own school paper. And ours will be a million times better because we’ve got the illustrious Betty Cooper.”

“Thanks, V,” Betty says weakly, embarrassed that today has been such a complete and utter failure. She has no interest in starting a rival school paper, or in doing anything except going home and getting very, very drunk. Desperate to get her friends to stop looking at her with such pity, she grapples for a subject change, “Where’s Cheryl?”

It does the trick. Veronica lights up instantly, eager to share the gossip, “Apparently, she’s found her own ride home, and judging from the hickey on her neck she was not at all trying to hide, I’d say she’ll probably be out pretty late.” She waggles her eyebrows, launching into several theories about who the mystery person might be.

Betty goes on autopilot for the rest of the ride home. She’s able to feign interest in the conversation, despite the fact that she has no idea what they talked about when she steps out of the car, quietly declining Veronica’s offer to hang out and study together. She mumbles a goodbye to Smithers and heads inside, eager to be alone to stew in her misery. The driveway is blissfully empty, both Hal and Alice still out for the day.

Dropping her backpack by the door, Betty toes off her sneakers and heads for the wine credenza down in the basement. Her parents make a big show of keeping it fully stocked with very expensive wines, but they hardly ever drink any of it. It’s purely a superficial move, used only when they have company over, but Betty takes full advantage. She’s in the mood for something spicy, and after searching through the racks for a few minutes, she settles on a Mendoza Malbec from 2012. Grabbing a glass, she heads upstairs and locks herself in the bathroom. Uncorking the bottle, she pours herself a full glass and runs herself a bath, finally letting all the pent up emotion from the day wash over her.

Betty Cooper is not used to failure. 

Her mother had instilled a sense of stubbornness in her from a very young age, drilling it into her head that Coopers never quit. One way or another, they always got what they wanted,  _ always _ . Failure simply wasn’t an option. She takes a large gulp of wine, resisting the urge to dig her nails into her palms once more as she recalls the way the Serpent boy had looked at her, had rejected her. It was as if he hated her, but he didn’t know her. She’d spent most of the time since their encounter trying to recall if they’d ever crossed paths before today, and she was achingly certain that she’d never laid eyes on him before.

She refills her glass and slips into the hot water, closing her eyes and trying desperately to make her mind go blank. She’s not nearly drunk enough for it to work, so she takes another greedy gulp, wanting nothing more than to forget this horrible day. It isn’t often that things go so terribly wrong for her, and she rarely feels the need to drink herself into oblivion to turn off the torrential outpour of anxiety and self-loathing, but she can’t stem the flow today, not with those words still ringing in her ears.

By the time both her glass and the bottle are empty, Betty is able to forget about those icy blue eyes.

 

\--

 

When Betty wakes, the bath water is chilly. She still feels mostly drunk, the room spinning around her. After a moment, she becomes aware of knocking on the bathroom door. It’s Cheryl, sounding more than slightly concerned, “Betty? You okay in there?”

Betty stumbles as she gets out of the bath, knocking her wine glass to the floor as she fumbles to keep herself upright. “Fuck,” she swears under her breath, wrapping a towel around herself and staying very still, not wanting to step on any glass.

Cheryl picks the bathroom lock, peeking around the door, “What was that?” Her eyes soften considerably when she sees Betty’s current state, and she holds up a finger, “Don’t move an inch, I’ll grab the broom.”

The room continues to tilt around her as Betty complies, guilt souring in her stomach as Cheryl returns, sweeping up the mess quickly. She takes Betty’s hand, voice gentle, “Come on, let’s get you to bed before your parents get home.”

Betty is too drunk to argue, so she lets Cheryl lead her to her bedroom. She’s wobbly on her feet but compliant as Cheryl helps her into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and she leans against the other girl for a moment, drunkenly murmuring, “You tha’best.”

“I know I am,” Cheryl replies, tucking her under the covers and kissing her forehead before leaving the room. She turns off the light behind her, leaving Betty alone in the darkness.

She falls into a fitful sleep, her dreams plagued with snakes coiling around her until she can’t breathe.

 

\--

 

Betty wakes up to a massive headache around five in the morning, a glass of water and aspirin on her bedside table with a sticky note marked with a ruby red kiss print. Despite the pounding behind her eyes, she smiles at the thoughtfulness. Cheryl has her back, which is a nice thought after the day she had.

Downing the water and medicine, she forces herself out of bed and into a stretch. This isn’t nearly the first time she’s woken up hungover from too much wine, and she knows the best cure is yoga and a run, followed by puking and then a breakfast of toast and egg whites. Even though she’s dead tired and knows this day is going to be hell to get through, she avoids the urge to pour herself a cup of coffee. Caffeine is definitely not going to do her any favors today.

She pukes twice during her run, dry heaving into the grass and being grateful that it’s too dark for any possible nosy neighbors to see her very clearly. After three miles she calls it quits, unable to force herself to keep going. All the lights are still off when she gets back home, so she heads to the kitchen quietly to make herself breakfast. The smell of toast makes her feel like she’s going to puke again, but she makes herself eat anyway. She drinks another glass of water before heading upstairs to shower and get ready for school.

Cheryl is leaving the bathroom when she gets there, wet hair cascading over her shoulder. She grins, squeezing Betty conspiratorially on the arm, “Good morning, Betty dearest. I trust you’re feeling well?”

Betty feels hollowed out, both physically and mentally, but she keeps her expression carefully pleasant as she says, “I’ve never felt better in my entire life.” Cheryl’s eyes dance with laughter as she turns and disappears into her bedroom. Alice Cooper is almost always watching, and when she isn’t watching, she’s listening, so the two of them have learned to have one conversation out loud and another purely through eye contact, knowing that there’s no such thing as being too cautious when it comes to Betty’s mother. 

In another life, the two of them could have actually been related.

After a shower and some more puking, Betty starts to feel marginally human again. She still feels horribly ashamed of the fact that the day before had completely kicked her ass, but she simply digs her nails into her palms a little when she starts thinking about that stupid school paper editor. She doesn’t break the skin, just puts a little pressure on the newly formed scabs, and it does a fairly good job of clearing her mind.

It isn’t about pain so much as it’s about control. Most of Betty’s life has been about control, if she’s being honest with herself. That’s why she’s borderline obsessive about knowing everything she can about, well, everything. The more she knows, the more in control she feels. It’s only when she doesn’t feel in control that she has to resort to hurting herself, or to drinking until her brain stops working. It’s like a reset button, giving her the ability to recenter and regain control, despite the fact that it takes quite a physical toll.

Only this time it doesn’t really seem to be working. By the time she’s dressed in black skinny jeans and an oversized plaid button down, she’s broken the freshly healing skin on both hands, blood smearing across her palms. She just can’t stop thinking about his eyes, those stupid eyes that are so beauitful and cold that it sends a shiver down her spine just at the memory of it.

Cheryl knocks on her bedroom door, snapping her out of her daze, “Betty? Time to go!” She appears half a second later, dressed in a scarlet sweater and a dark A-line skirt, several dark blotches clearly visible across her collarbone and neck.

Betty quickly closes her hands, putting them behind her back and raising her eyebrows, “Nice neck.” She is good at faking normalcy, good at slipping a mask on when she’s trapped in the darkness so as not to bring anyone else down with her.

But, of course, Cheryl has lived with her long enough to know nearly all of her secrets, and she raises a single eyebrow and replies, “Nice hands.” She rolls her eyes when Betty flushes and drops her gaze, “Come on, you didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice, did you? I see everything, always. But…” her tone softens a little and she smiles understandingly, “you were there for me when I was dealing with my demons, so if you ever need anything, just know I’m here, okay?” Betty nods, touched at her words, and Cheryl claps her hands together, “Great, now get cleaned up so we can get the hell out of here before Alice wakes up.”

That gets Betty moving, and she cleans her hands quickly, ignoring the sting of alcohol on open wounds. She grabs a box of bandaids and shoves it into her bag, following Cheryl down the stairs and out the door. 

Once again, Smithers is waiting outside the town car. They slide inside, mutually horrified as Archie and Veronica jump apart sheepishly. Betty rolls her eyes, smiling fondly at them, “Good morning, lovebirds.”

Cheryl gags, not nearly as forgiving as Betty, “Keep it in your pants, Andrews. This is a shared space.”

Archie blushes almost as red as his hair, clearing his throat uncomfortably, “Um, morning, Betty. Cheryl.”

Veronica isn’t as easily embarrassed, nearly unfazed altogether, and she hands over a box of scones, “Breakfast from Bien Cuit. I had them flown in because Archekins here didn’t believe that their scones were the best.”

Betty takes one more out of politeness than a desire to eat anything, but after the first bite, she finds herself reaching for a second without stopping to speak. Mouth full, she looks up, slightly abashed, “Mm,  _ definitely _ the best. I’ve never been more grateful that Archie dared doubt your taste, V.” Who knew that the perfect hangover cure was a raspberry pastry that probably cost more than Betty cares to know?

The rest of the car ride is so fun and lighthearted that Betty almost forgets about the awful day she had yesterday. By the time they get to school, Betty’s headache has subsided and she’s mostly ready to face the day. She even feels up to taking another crack at getting her locker open.

She and her friends part ways once they get through the metal detectors, Betty making a quick stop in the bathroom to put bandaids on her palms before heading to her locker. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she prepares herself to try the combination again.

“It’s triple seven,” someone says, just over her shoulder. 

Betty whirls around, eyes widening when she sees the hateful Serpent from yesterday. She stares up at him, heart suddenly in her throat. She feels panic and terror and like maybe she’s in over her head. “What?” she finally gets out, after a beat too long.

He’s in her personal space, holding her gaze, making her so uncomfortable that she digs her nails into her palms behind her back involuntarily, tearing through both the bandaids and her skin, “The combination to your locker. It’s triple seven.” He reaches just past her shoulder, opening the locker for her easily. “Bring me an article after school, room 604.” And he saunters away, almost but not quite smiling at her.

Betty’s eyes move from her open locker to his retreating figure, her pulse pounding in her temples. She’s jolted into movement when the bell rings, and she slams her locker shut forcefully and hurries down the hall, head spinning and palms burning.

She is  _ absolutely _ in over her head.

 

 

 

**_J._ **

  
  
  


When Jughead arrives at the Whyte Wyrm, it’s packed nearly to capacity. He wades through the crowd, barely able to see in the smoky din, searching for his father. He finds him upstairs in the Serpents’ meeting room, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a suspicious look on his face. He gets to his feet when he sees his son, cutting off the whispered conversation he’s in the middle of with Tall Boy, “The Serpent Prince returns! What can I do for you, my son?”

Jughead cringes at the nickname, hating the implications it has. He wants to ask about the obviously secret conversation he’s just interrupted, but he tables it for the moment, cutting right to the chase, “What are you planning? With the Northsiders?”

FP looks surprised, but he waits for Tall Boy to make an exit before saying, “What are you talkin’ about, Jughead? The mayor wants to reunite the town. I’ve got nothin’ to do with that.” It’s an unconvincing lie; he’s never been able to fool his son.

Jughead frowns, crossing his arms, “Right, that’s why Principal Smith told me I need to let Betty Cooper write for  _ The Black and Red. _ Because of Mayor McCoy.” The disbelief is evident in his tone. He’s supposed to be in charge soon, and his father won’t even tell him what’s going on. After the awful day he’s had, this is almost too much. If FP doesn’t come clean, he might just snap.

“Alright, Jughead, you got me. I may have leaned on the mayor a little to have the Riverdale students transfer to Southside and not the other way around. And I may have heard that the Cooper girl tried to join the newspaper and you shut her down, so I had Smith step in. But, listen, son,” FP claps a hand on his son’s shoulder, looking more serious than he has in a long time, “this is about keeping our enemies close. Alice Cooper is a traitor and she’s been trying to destroy the Serpents ever since she left the Southside all those years ago. I’m sure that daughter of hers is a pain in the ass, but I need you to keep a close eye on her. You know as well as I do what happens to people who try to leave the Serpents, and it’s time that Cooper bitch gets what’s comin’ to her.”

Dread fills Jughead, but he shoves it down deep, keeping his features schooled, “So you want me to, what? Babysit her daughter?” He can’t fucking believe this...only, well, he sort of can. Part of the reason Betty Cooper has driven him so crazy for the past several years is the fact that her mother is Enemy Number One to the Serpents, making Betty so off limits it was treason to even think about her. Alice had grown up on the Southside, even been a Serpent herself, until she’d turned eighteen and gotten the hell out of Dodge. She’d married Hal Cooper and she’s been spending her entire life since that day trying to erase her past.

It makes sense, then, why the Serpents hadn’t argued the school merger; they’d been the ones to orchestrate the entire thing. Now that Jughead knows this, he wouldn’t be surprised if FP were the entire reason Mayor McCoy wanted to bring unity to the town. He highly doubts that’s what FP really wants, but he wouldn’t put it past his father to have come up with some grand revenge scheme to get back at the Northsiders for the way they’ve always looked down on the people who were from the “wrong” side of town, and if he could serve up a little vengeance for a Serpent deserter in the process, all the better.

“I’m not asking you to like her, Jug. Hell, you don’t even have to be nice to the girl. Just keep your eye on her. Word on the street is that little bitch tends to put her nose where it doesn’t belong just like her mother, and if she gets wind of things, it won’t be long before Alice finds out as well. So keep her close, and keep her off the trail, you got me?” FP is looking at his son with so much trust, with so much faith, that Jughead feels utterly helpless. All he’s wanted for so many years is for his father to be proud of him, for him to look at his son the way he is right now. 

So he nods, his stomach twisting itself into knots, “Yeah, Dad, I can do that.” The irony of the situation isn’t lost on him, and a hysterical bubble of laughter is lodged in his throat.

FP smiles, full of pride, “I knew you could, son.” He picks up his now empty glass, the moment gone, the leader of the Serpents serious once more, “Now get me a refill and send Tall Boy back in here. We have business to finish up.”

Jughead obliges, feeling entirely  _ fucked _ .

 

\--

 

Jughead’s dreams are full of Betty Cooper wearing nothing but a Serpent jacket, whispering obscene things in his ear. He wakes with a boner that’s almost painful, and it nearly makes him late to school again because of the amount of time he spends in the shower.

He stops on the way to school to buy a fresh pack of cigarettes, having a feeling that he’s going to need it to go through with his plan. He’s got to let Betty join the paper, that much is obvious. He figures that the best way to do so while also keeping her at arm’s length is to keep her unbalanced; he knows he’s going to slip up, forget himself every now and then in her green eyes, but as long as he’s as awful as he can be to her the rest of the time, he can play it off as simply toying with her.

Toni is smoking on the front steps, waiting for him and entirely unconcerned with the blatant violation of school rules, “Nice of you to show up for first period, Jones.” She’s got a series of small little lovebites across her collarbone, red lipstick smeared across her neck, and she looks entirely too smug about all of it. For Jughead to deal with her this morning.

He steps around her, mildly disgusted, “You’re obnoxious. I don’t want to know who’s been sucking on your neck.”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” Toni says tauntingly, smirking triumphantly at the thought of whoever it is.

Jughead simply rolls his eyes, leaving her to finish her cigarette. He’s hoping both that Betty is still at her locker and that she’s nowhere to be found, doubt creeping into his mind. He  _ can’t _ let himself be nice to her, can’t let her get close, but he made a promise to his father and he’s obligated to keep her in his sight. He’d spent the better part of the ride to school convincing himself that he can do this, that he can be an asshole and make her hate him and  _ not _ drive himself insane in the process, and he’s finally starting to believe it...mostly. 

He’s almost disappointed when he sees her, wearing an oversized plaid button down and standing in front of her locker as if she doesn’t even want to try to open it, looking entirely too perfect this early in the morning. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as he gets close. He speaks before she can lift her hand to the dial, making her jump in surprise, “It’s triple seven.”

She spins to face him, backing into the bank of lockers as her eyes widen. Jughead is both proud and disgusted that she looks slightly afraid at the sight of him, knowing it’ll just make everything that much easier and hating himself for it. She looks like she’s barely slept, dark rings around her eyes, and he has a moment to wonder if he’s the reason behind the empty look behind her eyes. Betty stares at him for longer than is polite, her eyebrows pulling together as she finally says, “What?”

Jughead takes a step closer, invading her personal space, his voice low as he says, “The combination to your locker. It’s triple seven.” He can’t help himself, getting this close to her, and he reaches up and opens the locker for her as if to demonstrate what he’s just said. He forces himself to speak again before he can touch her, “Bring me an article after school, room 604.” His lips twitch up into an almost smile involuntarily at the way she’s looking at him, her cheeks pink. It’s nearly painful to force himself to turn away, his jaw clenching as he remembers his father’s words from the previous night.

He’s walking a dangerous line, but part of him likes the thrill.

 

\--

 

When the final bell rings, Jughead takes his time getting to room 604. He figures that Betty will undoubtedly be waiting nervously for him to arrive, and he revels in prolonging her discomfort, if only a little. He wants to keep her on edge, keep that slightly terrified look in her eyes so as to maintain the upper hand.

She is, of course, just as he’d pictured her, chewing on her bottom lip and standing outside the door when he arrives, her foot tapping the floor impatiently. He intentionally crowds her as he unlocks the door, watching with mild fascination as a blush colors her face at his nearness. He steps back, holding the door open and raising his eyebrows at her when she doesn’t move, “Well, go on.”

Betty scrambles into the room, clearly nervous. She starts talking instantly, a large stack of papers in her hands, “I wasn’t sure if you meant an article that I’ve already written or something new, so I have my three best from the last year and three new ones that I wrote today. I also wasn’t sure what you wanted me to write about, so the subjects vary.” She holds the stack out to him, clearly uncomfortable and unwilling to meet his eyes.

Jughead is both in awe and amused. He’d had most of his classes with her, and she was very studiously taking notes in all of them. He wonders when she could have possibly had the time to write  _ three _ articles, taking the stack and beginning to read. He takes his time, flipping through them slowly, aware of her increasing anxiety all the while.  _ This is fun _ , he decides, thinking that if he’s going to drive himself crazy, he might as well do the same to her in the process. 

Her work is good, there’s no denying that. He wants her to squirm a bit more though, so he raises his eyes silently to hers when he’s finished reading all six articles, one eyebrow arched. Betty starts talking again, her nerves getting the best of her, “Um, they’re all sourced and fact checked, I’m very thorough. I didn’t have time to get pictures for the new ones, but I will be much more on top of things in the future. If there is a future. Of me writing for you, I mean.” She visibly forces herself to stop speaking, her hands behind her back.

Slouching into his favorite chair, Jughead lets his eyes roam over her for a moment, making her fidget again. He decides to release her from her distress, eyes sliding away in an appearance of disinterest, “Toni’s our photographer, don’t worry about photos. These are...acceptable.”  _ Incredible _ , he corrects himself in his head. “I guess I could use you.” She blushes again and he smirks at her, enjoying this strange power he seems to have over her and wondering idly how long it will take to go to his head. Remembering the entire reason he’s doing this in the first place, he sets his jaw and squares her with a look, “Two rules though: one, you don’t write anything about the Serpents. It’d be a waste of your time and mine since I won’t run any of it. Two, if you break rule one, you’re out. No second chances, no running to Principal Smith to bail you out again. Understood?”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Betty’s eyebrows draw together, a frown on her face.

Jughead rolls his eyes, in no mood to play games. Well, in no mood to play  _ her  _ games. He’s beginning to find a sick sort of enjoyment out of his game. “Don’t play dumb, Cooper. I know you ratted me out yesterday for turning you down.”

Her frown deepens and she shakes her head, “No, I definitely didn’t. I wouldn’t do something like that.” Her tone is steely, clearly offended that he’d accuse her of such a thing. “I’m a big girl, you asshole. I don’t need everything to go my way, and I definitely don’t need to run to the principal because some jerk was rude to me.” She draws herself up to her full height, hands balled into fists once again. “Screw you,” are her parting words as she storms out the door. His accusation seems to have broken whatever spell she’d been under, and gone was the nervous girl he’d been starting to grow accustomed to.

Jughead can’t help the laugh that comes out of his mouth, surprised at her outburst. He didn’t think she had it in her, honestly. He likes this feisty side of her, likes pushing her buttons and getting her to lose her cool. Getting to his feet, he calls after her, “Cover the football game tonight, Cooper!”

She flips him off over her shoulder, not looking back. Jughead laughs again, knowing he’ll have a writeup of the game on his desk in the morning. The smile slips off his face fairly quickly though, because he’s starting to realize that Betty Cooper is nothing like he thought she’d be.

He’s beginning to wonder if he can handle her at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's going to be continuous POV overlap bc i think it's important to see how differently they're experiencing the same interactions
> 
> also i'm a chronic procrastinator feel free to harass me if i'm taking too long to update 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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